The first time I set foot in a trout stream, I was six years old. It was the summer before my life would be forever changed by the illicit touch of a stranger. The summer of 1960 found my family on its very first vacation. We traveled to the mountains of West Virginia and rented a small cabin for a week. I remember mom frying trout in an iron skillet. I remember my brother and I playing quietly in the shade of the many trees surrounding our camp. I remember my dad standing in the shallow middle, up to his knees, casting over and over with the flies he had meticulously tied at his workbench in the basement. And I remember the river. The North Fork of the South Branch of the Potomac River, to be exact.

I didn’t have much experience with open bodies of water. Mom had instilled an unhealthy fear of water in me with stories of the time she saved her baby sister from drowning. She had no intention of ever having to save me, so I was banished from any water sports. And, it turns out…I’m a bit of a water baby. I remember one day in particular. Dad was out in his favorite fishing hole, patiently casting, and I stood at the river’s edge. I contemplated the ripples as they passed over the smooth river rocks. I gazed at the deep pools that changed to the color of emeralds where the sandy bottom lay two or three feet below. I delighted at the light dancing on the surface like a thousand diamonds and the trout flashing as they breached the surface to catch their next meal.

That was a simple and peaceful summer…the last I would know before my innocence was taken from me. But, that is not to say, I have never found moments that have recaptured that sense of awe and wonder. I have…many times. Yesterday was one of those days that delivered sweet things…one after another…till I was overflowing with the beauty and simplicity of it all.

I made my routine trip to the farm to see how the kitties are fairing. I checked the stove and the basement. I sat, as I always do, in the chair in “Grandma’s Window” and watched the birds at the feeder. I listened to the sounds of an old house…living and breathing…its bones creaking like the old woman that she is. I watched the pendulum in Mr. Virgo’s clock swing back and forth, reminding me I couldn’t stay too long. We had company coming.

I stopped at the neighbor’s for a bit and delivered a small gift of French Truffles. We passed the time, catching up on the news of the neighbors and I left with promises it wouldn’t be so long till my next visit. I turned the truck toward home. I checked the mail and found a pink slip…a package had come and would be waiting for me at the post office. Mr. FixIt offered to go pick it up as I put the groceries away. I no sooner sat down till our company arrived.

Mr. FixIt’s granddaughter and her family brought their baby to see Papaw and GG! I have inherited a whole passel of people in this relationship, including a son and his wife, a daughter and her man, three granddaughters (two of whom have significant others), a grandson and his girlfriend, and a great granddaughter. You know what that means, don’t you? I am a great grandmother! And…considering I am WAY too young to be one (smile)…I am GG. Great Grandma. Grandma Ginny. GG. It suits me. The baby is four months old and the most precious little thing. What a treat to hold and rock a little one again!

Before long, Mr. FixIt came back with my box. I couldn’t wait to open it. It was a special introductory gift box from my dear friend, and fellow Sister on the Fly, Michelle McMullen Cummings with her newly published book, The Reel Sisters! https://www.thereelsisters.com/product/the-reel-sisters-gift-box/ Now I have two books to read, one published and one unpublished with an invitation to write early praise for its release. Both written by strong women I admire and I can’t wait to get into them! The reminder of these sister friendships warmed my heart as rocked and sang a lullaby to the newest member of our immediate family. I thought…”I will teach you to fly, little sister” as I sniffed the top of her sweet, soft head.

I am enjoying getting to know and bond with Mr. FixIt’s family. As his granddaughter bundled up the baby and prepared to leave yesterday, she turned to me and said, “I like you. You make my grandpa very happy.” I like her, too. She reminds me a little of myself when I was her age. A young mother, in love with her baby, her life stretching before her like an endless summer. It filled me with a soft warmth. As I sat propped in our bed last night, typing away at the keyboard writing this post, that very happy Papaw came in with a small bowl of ice cream and a kiss on the top of my head. And I swear…my heart exploded with joy.

The sweet simplicity of a life lived with boundless joy. My God has delivered me far, far from the pain life can bring. For now. There will be pain again. There always is. This is life, after all. The difference is, I have this now. I am building my insurance policy. These stories are money in my emotional bank…stories to look back upon one day and remember the joy I felt on a cold January day in the sun. ❤️

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”
‭‭James‬ ‭1:17‬ ‭NIV‬‬